


[Abandoned WIP] Refugees

by Zeke Black (istia)



Series: Abandoned WIP [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Found Family, Gen, POV Chris Larabee, Young Ezra Standish, Young J. D. Dunne, Young Vin Tanner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:19:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1845775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istia/pseuds/Zeke%20Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Buck are former street kids now grown up and living near their foster father, Josiah, and his best friend, Nathan. Helping out at a soup kitchen, they meet a black-haired kid with a deerstalker hat and an engaging smile, which leads to their getting involved with the kid's own found family living on the streets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Abandoned WIP] Refugees

**Author's Note:**

> This story was, of course, going to be Chris/Ezra, though I intended it to have a slow build given Ezra's being about seventeen when the fic begins.

###### Thursday

Buck noticed the kid first, inevitably. The old dog had been looking out for people who were young, small, needy, or vulnerable for so long he'd developed a kind of radar. _Blip blip_ , and another one popped up on Buck's personal screen.

"Did you see the kid?"

Chris squinted at him through the steam rising from the cauldron of chili and wondered for the umpteenth time just what wavelength his oldest friend operated on that the rest of them didn't tune into.

"Which kid? There have to be at least a dozen of them out there."

Chris cursed as he and Buck wrestled the heavy pot off the hotplate. At least they weren't on clean-up duty this time. Damn Josiah and Nathan, anyway, volunteering Buck and him to cover for them at the soup kitchen for the entire week while the older pair attended a counseling conference. This was their fourth day, and Chris didn't think he'd be able to stand the smell of chili again for months.

"The one on his own. Black hair, looks about ten."

"Nope, can't say I did. D'you mind lending a hand here, Buck? They're gonna stampede if we don't get this stuff out front."

After they got the food situation settled and were in the process of filling plates and handing them out, Chris got an elbow in his ribs and Buck's voice close to his ear.

"That one."

Chris looked up. His eyes settled on a small, skinny kid who seemed all big dark eyes, unruly black hair, and terminal cuteness. He appeared to be on his own all right, and none too well cared for, even for this neighborhood. His clothes were a mismatched lot, some too big and some too small. On his thick hair sat a tweed deerstalker hat, of all the bizarre things, complete with ear flaps flopping down. It was a trifle large, like his faded, torn jeans, and he kept impatiently pushing it up off his forehead.

His face looked none too clean, his hair was greasy, and his clothes hadn't been washed for a good while. His jacket, a green anorak, looked warm if faded, but it was too small, his thin wrists protruding from the worn corduroy cuffs. He stared at the food with the eagerness of a growing child who never had a full belly.

He had all the earmarks of a kid who was living on the streets, all right. Not that that would make him terribly unusual in this area, but it wasn't often you saw one this young who was on his own.

Chris sighed, knowing he'd never have noticed the kid if it hadn't been for Buck. Trust Buck and his radar.

"How you doing there, sport?"

The boy raised large hazel eyes to Buck, and smiled an urchin grin that made him even more appealing, dirty face notwithstanding. Buck grinned back, obviously equal parts captivated and concerned, and Chris silently cursed Josiah once more for landing them here. All he needed was to have to deal with Buck in mother-hen mode.

"Doing good. How's 'bout you?"

"Doing real fine." Buck's voice was warm and deep, that sweet comforting voice that made the world seem a finer place just hearing it. "Here you go, son. If you're quick with that, you can come back for seconds."

"Really? Cool."

The boy hurried to a table and used the spoon to shovel in mouthfuls of hot chili.

"Poor little brat. He looks starved. And no one's looking after him."

"You don't know that."

"Come on, Chris, look at him. He shouldn't be out in this neighborhood by himself. Hell, he shouldn't be here at all; he should be in school."

Chris finished serving the last of the people in the line and headed to the kitchen to help the rest of the volunteers prepare the sandwiches they provided three times a week for folks to take with them for a second meal. Wonderful world, he thought grimly, as he buttered and sliced at top speed. Three times a week, these people get to eat two meals a day. But charitable donations and voluntary help stretched only so far.

"Ain't the first time he's been here, neither."

Chris jumped at the voice close beside him. "Jesus, Buck," he growled, but half-heartedly, knowing a lost cause before it bit him on the ass.

"I saw him here yesterday and the day before. Didn't notice on Monday, but he could've been, for all I know."

"In that case, I reckon he's not so bad at looking out for himself down here. Must know the ropes."

He could feel Buck's penetrating gaze, but refused to turn his head and meet his friend's eyes. Dammit.

"Hell, Chris, you know it's only a matter of time. Kid that small on his own? He ain't got a chance."

Chris gathered up a platter of sandwiches each protected by Saran Wrap and carried it into the front. One of the other volunteers was ladling more chili onto the boy's plate, which earned her a big happy grin that she returned. Oh, yeah, that kid was a black-hole of charm. The boy carefully carried his plate back to his table, trying not to spill, then proceeded to shovel it in again like he was on a time-limit.

Hunger does that to a kid. Fear of losing it, or of not having enough time to finish. Hope of getting more once you've finished what you've got.

Chris closed his eyes momentarily, retreating from the memories of cold, hunger, and fear that were always ready to surge to the surface. Yeah, Buck was right. They knew the reality of what the kid faced. The problem was what to do about it. He watched as the boy wiped his plate clean with a last piece of bread, then joined the crowd moving to claim sandwiches to take with them. With Buck beside him, Chris watched as the boy took one sandwich, then, with a furtive glance around, quickly snatched another and turned to hurry out the door.

"He did that Tuesday, too."

Chris raised an eyebrow at him.

"Grabbed two sandwiches and ran."

"So what? He's always hungry, Buck, that's all. He knows he's going to be real hungry again soon."

"He don't seem like the kind to sneak extra like that without permission. And he knows he shouldn't; that's why he tries to sneak it."

"He's just hungry. Don't make it into a big deal."

But stopping Buck in mid-pursuit was like trying to stop a runaway semi with a teaspoon. Anyone who tries'll just get bent out of shape for no advantage.

"I think he might be taking it to someone."

"You don't even know the boy's name, for chrissake. He might steal as a regular thing. You don't know nothing about him."

"I been watching him," Buck said, stubbornly. "I got a feeling about him."

Chris threw up his hands and stalked into the kitchen to finish up their stint.

Buck, predictably, wouldn't let it go.

###### Friday

Buck turned on his own charm as the boy waited patiently in line to have his plate filled.

"Hey, Chris, you ever seen a hat like this kid's? That has to be the strangest hat I have ever seen. What d'you call that kind of hat, anyhow? Dog ears?"

The kid rolled his eyes, pushed the hat up off his forehead, and tilted his head the long way back necessary to meet Buck's grinning eyes far above him. "This is the kind of hat Sherlock Holmes wore."

"Sherlock Holmes? Well, imagine that. D'you hear that, Chris? This boy has a hat like Sherlock Holmes. I never suspected Sherlock Holmes went around with dog ears flopping around his face."

"You are so full of it," the kid said, but he was grinning happily, seeming to enjoy the teasing.

Buck did have the knack of putting people at ease.

"You can put the ear muffs up, like this, when you ain't using them." The kid put his plate down and demonstrated, pushing both flaps up against the hat's tweed sides. "Only the lace is broke. Vin's gonna fix it, though, soon's he can."

With another smile, he took his plate to a table and proceeded to eat at his usual space-rocket speed.

"Well, there you go," Chris murmured, as Buck stared thoughtfully at the back of the kid hunched over a table across the room. "He ain't on his own."

"If he's got someone looking after him, then he ought to be in school."

Lost cause, that's all Buck was. Chris shook his head and busied himself with the job at hand.

Coming out of the kitchen with more buttered bread slices a short time later, he saw Buck standing at the table talking to the kid. They were both laughing, two shining, utterly unlike faces that nevertheless reflected a shared animation and happy warmth. 

They walked to the counter together to get the kid his seconds, which Chris ladled onto his plate.

"Chris, meet JD. JD, Chris here's my oldest friend. He's been putting up with me since I was about your age, or maybe a little older. That's right, ain't it, Chris? Yeah, we met when I was eleven."

JD was smiling at Chris, but turned to roll his eyes at Buck. "I'm thirteen, Buck. Jeez. Just 'cause I ain't had my growth spurt yet, everyone thinks I'm a little kid."

Buck was genuinely taken aback, and Chris also gave the kid a closer look. Thirteen? Hell. He was pretty sure he hadn't had a baby face like that when he was thirteen, and he sure knew Buck hadn't.

"Growth spurt?" Buck had recovered, and was laughing. "What've you been reading, Dr. Spock?"

That one went right over the boy's head, thirteen and not-a-little-kid or not. " _Spock?_ " His voice was laden with disbelief.

"Never mind," Buck laughed.

The boy shrugged. "Vin said he didn't get his growth spurt till he was fifteen, so mine'll come."

He spoke with the touching surety of absolute trust.

"Yeah? So who's Vin?"

"He's my brother."

"Your brother, huh? How come he don't come in with you?"

The boy's mobile face clouded. "He's away right now."

JD turned and took his plate back to the table to eat his seconds.

The kid was one of the last to finish that day. As he was heading for the door, Buck called his name. When the boy turned, Buck tossed him a brown bag. The boy fielded it gracefully, and looked inside. He looked back up at Buck, his eyes large under the fall of greasy dark hair.

"I didn't know what your favorites are, so one of them's peanut butter and jam and the other's cheese and roast beef. See you tomorrow, son."

The boy bobbed his head, seemingly too startled to say anything, then turned and hurried out of the Center.

###### Saturday

JD arrived later than usual, joining the end of the line-up at the counter, and he seemed worried and somber. He managed a smile at Chris, but it was weak compared to the wattage he'd radiated previously, and he was even too preoccupied to do more than laugh half-heartedly at Buck's teasing. Inevitably, Buck zeroed in on the problem.

"Something's wrong."

"Maybe."

"Hell, it's obvious. It sticks out all over him. That boy's got no more talent for subterfuge than he does for stealing."

"Not your business, Buck."

Buck moved away from Chris as the kid got up from the table and headed back towards the counter.

"Who says?" Buck gave Chris a wolfish smile before turning his attention to the youngster.

Whether he had a talent for subterfuge or not, JD managed to elude all of Buck's nosy questions with skill. He dodged and shrugged and insisted everything was fine with growing irritation. Both of them showed signs of frustration by the time the boy was waiting his turn to claim his sandwich. Buck stopped him with a hand on his shoulder as JD was turning away, having dared take only one sandwich with the awareness of people watching him.

"Listen, JD, I only want to help. I can tell something's bothering you. I've been there. Maybe I can help if you just let me."

"Nothing's wrong. I don't know how many times I got to tell you that." He twisted his shoulder out of Buck's light clasp.

"Kid, you don't have the kind of face that lends itself to hiding things." Buck's voice was sweet and gentle. "And I ain't trying to push you or intrude on you or anything. But if something's wrong, then maybe I can help. Why don't you give me a try?"

The kid took a ragged breath, and rubbed his nose with the faded sleeve of his jacket. "You can't. There's nothing--" He stopped.

"Is it Vin?" Buck persisted. "Did something happen to him?"

"No, he ain't got back yet. He was supposed to come home a couple of days ago, but--"

He broke off again, indecision and a worried frown etched on his expressive young face.

"Is something wrong at home? You're not on your own, are you?"

"No."

Whether the negative referred to nothing being wrong or his not being on his own, Chris didn't know. It was clear, though, that the negative in this case didn't add up to a good situation.

"Talk to me, JD," Buck urged. "Let me help. You don't have to take care of everything by yourself."

"There's nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do, except Vin. And I don't know why he ain't back."

"Where did he go, son?"

JD shot a startled look at Chris, as though he'd forgotten anyone but Buck was close enough to be part of the conversation.

"He went to find work. We--we needed the money, but he had to go away to get it. But it was only supposed to be for a week. He was supposed to be back by Tuesday, or Wednesday at the latest if he couldn't get a ride."

He wiped the back of his sleeve over his nose again, then got a resolute look on his face.

"I gotta get home."

Buck caught his sleeve. "Why don't you come stay with us until your brother gets back? You could leave a note so he knows where you are."

"No, I told you, I ain't alone. I gotta go. Bye."

He was out the door before Buck could even push into his hands the second sandwich he'd kept back for that purpose, and took off running down the sidewalk to the right.

"Hell." Buck kicked moodily at a table leg. "That went well."

"You can't take care of the whole damn world, old dog."

"It's just one little kid, not the whole damn world."

Chris squeezed his shoulder before picking up the large empty platter and heading for the kitchen.

"Yeah. I know."

###### Sunday

Their final day of volunteering at the Center was a cold, wet one. They hurried in from the truck, shaking rain from their jackets as they hung them up in the back.

"Hell of a day to be living on the streets," Buck said.

"Yup."

They didn't need to say more. They both knew exactly what the other knew.

The Center seemed more crowded than usual, filled with the smell of too many unwashed bodies covered with wet clothing. At least it was warm. Toasty warm, even. For an hour, those people who didn't have a heated shelter to return to could at least warm up, even though it wasn't enough time for their soaked clothes to get completely dry.

JD wasn't in the crowd. Chris could see Buck's worry notch up with each passing minute, and gave a resigned mental shrug as he listened to Buck's easygoing interrogation of everyone who came to the counter, trying to find out if anyone had seen the black-haired kid. Hopeless attempt, in Chris's opinion. People who were desperate enough to go out in a rainstorm to get free food weren't usually all that cognizant of other people and their problems. And kids like JD were hardly a novelty in this area.

So Chris was surprised when a rumpled, grizzled man answered that he knew the kid. Buck's voice remained calm, but Chris could hear the underlying excitement.

"Have you seen him today, by any chance?"

"Nah, not today. Had no cause to go down that way, not in this storm. Not likely to find enough bottles to make it worth while pushing my cart and these old bones all that way."

"I can understand that," Buck said, with that beguiling warmth in his voice that made the person he was speaking to feel like he was the only important being in the entire world. "Where exactly is that, anyway?"

"Down round Fifty-Eighth and Hopper. There's an old warehouse they're s'posed to pull down any time. It ain't real safe in there, but I seen them boys going in."

"Boys? JD and his brother?"

"Yeah, reckon. Don't look much alike, but I reckon so."

After that, Buck's mood just settled into determined. Not even the smallest point in trying to talk to him or persuade him to do anything but what he'd decided on. So, when they'd finished at the shelter and said their goodbyes to the other volunteers, they got in the truck and Chris let Buck direct him towards Hopper Street.

The area consisted of boarded-up old shops mingled with warehouses in current use and large sparse areas where industry had once operated, but was now gone, its buildings lost with the memory of what had once thrived in the district. On the edge of one such weed-strewn stretch of ground was the dilapidated corrugated steel and wooden warehouse with broken windows and "Condemned" and "Keep Out" and "Danger" signs prominently displayed on its graffiti-splotched walls. The owners were covering their butts in case an accident happened to someone trespassing inside the shaky walls.

It was icy down here, away from the trapped warmth between the city buildings, with a stiff wind blowing from the river near this once busy industrial area. Chris zipped up his leather jacket, but Buck didn't seem to notice the wind as he surveyed the building, then moved resolutely to an area at the back where a section of corrugated steel seemed loose. No point trying to get in the sealed doors, but a person who knew what to look for couldn't miss the way the steel plate gaped a little near the north-east corner.

It was a tight squeeze for two grown men who were more than the average tall. Chris swore silently as he sucked in his gut and hoped his jacket didn't catch on a sharp edge and tear. Sneaking into places like this had been a lot easier back in the days when he and Buck had needed to do it to survive, when they'd been, if not as small as JD, a lot shorter and skinnier than they were now. Managing to maneuver his long legs inside, Chris stood up, dusting dirt from his hands, and looked around at a rubbish strewn, dimly lit open space. He shivered in the damp, chill air and looked at the puddles on the floor. Looking up, Chris could see smashed skylights in the roof high above.

Buck set off across the space, angling his steps around broken furniture and assorted other garbage to head for a walled off area on the far side. An office originally, presumably. Chris followed, their boots on the concrete floor echoing in the vast space and broken grass crunching underfoot. As they approached the office area, Buck called JD's name, and added his own.

Nevertheless, the boy jerked to his feet with a startled look when Buck pushed open the creaking door and went inside. Buck moved slowly, his hands hanging unthreateningly at his sides. Chris moved just as slowly inside behind him, stepping to Buck's side to look across the small room at the wide-eyed kid. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the gloom; the only light in the room was what came through the boards haphazardly nailed across the single window. At least it wasn't raining in here, but it was cold and damp.

"What are you doing here?" The kid sounded astonished, and a little angry.

"We were just worried about you when you didn't show up for lunch today," Buck said, his voice mild and placating.

The kid wasn't buying it. "How did you know where to find me? You been following me?" The anger rang clear in his voice now, which hit a higher note than its usual timbre.

"Nope. Just happened to talk to someone who knew where you lived." Buck smiled.

The kid, however, frowned. "You asked around about me? What the hell gives you the right to poke into my business?"

"Now, son, we weren't--"

"JD."

The new voice, low and weak, startled all three of them. JD jumped and twisted around, looking down. For the first time, Chris realized the boy was standing in front of someone lying on the floor in the corner. All he could see in the gloom was a curled up form covered with a couple of tatty looking dark blankets.

JD's voice changed, becoming softer and reassuring, oddly mature despite its youthful highness. "Yeah, I'm here. It's okay. Everything's okay."

"What--?"

"Nothing. Everything's fine."

"That your brother, kid?"

JD faced them again, his stance now clearly protective, like a terrier facing off pit bulls with bravado and guts, if nothing else. He radiated as much hostility now as he had good-natured friendliness a couple of days before.

"Yeah. Now you've seen I'm okay, you can leave."

The figure on the floor moved abruptly, curling up tighter around himself, a small muffled gasp escaping.

"Your brother don't seem in too good shape there, son."

JD set his feet a little farther apart, like he was trying to make himself into as large a protective wall as he could.

"We don't need your help. Just get out."

Chris took a step to the left to try to get a better view of the kid on the floor. JD followed him with a step of his own, his eyes darting between Chris and Buck. All Chris could see was a slight figure curled up and shivering with cold or discomfort, or both, most likely.

"Where are your parents?" Buck's voice was mild and reassuring and warm.

"None of your business. Get out of here! Just go away!"

Chris looked at Buck, and Buck turned and met his eyes. Chris shook his head.

Buck sighed. "We can't do that. I think your brother there needs help. Do you know what's wrong with him?"

JD looked mutinous, but tired uncertainty showed underneath on that expressive young face. "He's just got the flu. He'll be better soon." The words held more conviction than the voice did.

"How long's he been sick?"

"A couple days."

It sounded like a hedge. Chris's sense of something being seriously wrong notched up another degree. He took a step forward. JD looked nervous, but put his hands up in front of his chest as though he were ready to try to push Chris physically away from his brother.

Chris looked down into the anxious face and smiled as Buck closed up on JD's other side. "I just want to have a look at him. I'm not going to hurt him. Okay?"

Chris didn't wait for an answer. Leaving Buck to handle JD, he moved to the makeshift bed, which appeared to consist of a third worn blanket spread on the filthy linoleum floor with a folded t-shirt for a pillow. This boy was older than JD and didn't look anything like him, from what Chris could see in the poor light. He had no trouble seeing the sheen of sweat on the pain-tightened features, or the way the kid's teeth were dug into his lower lip as he seemed to be riding out waves of pain in his gut. His whole body was rigid as he lay on his side, his knees pulled up almost to his chest, his arms crossed over his abdomen.

Chris put a hand against the smooth forehead. Eyes snapped open, startled, and the entire pain-racked body jerked back from him, though not before Chris had felt the heat emanating from the teenager.

"Easy--"

"JD?" Panic laced the hoarse voice.

"I'm here. It's okay."

Chris stood and turned to Buck as JD nervously shifted from foot to foot, his eyes darting between the adults and his brother. Chris kept his face neutral, but his voice firm as he spoke to Buck. "He needs a doctor--"

"No! No doctor. You can't!" JD's voice was shrill.

Chris looked at the boy's scared face. "Your brother's real sick, kid. We have to take him to the hospital."

"No, you can't! You can't take him to the hospital." The boy was almost crying. "He don't wanna go to the hospital. He don't like them. You can't do it."

Buck put a hand on JD's shoulder and held him in place, looking intently into his eyes. "He's too sick to know what he needs, JD. Sometimes when you love someone, it means you have to do what they need, not what they want."

JD flung Buck's hand off and moved back a couple of steps until he was standing by the pallet.

"We don't need you telling us what to do! We can look after ourselves just fine. You just go away and leave us alone! Just get out!"

Chris sighed. "Sorry, kid, no can do. Buck, give me a hand here. It'll take longer to get an ambulance down here than it will to just take him to the ER ourselves."

Everything seemed to happen at once. As Buck gently pulled JD out of the way and Chris knelt again beside the sick boy, reaching out to pull down the blankets covering him, the boy gasped in a mix of startlement and pain. JD screamed and tried to twist away from Buck, kicking at Buck's shins. The sick youth pushed Chris away with a surprisingly strong hand, but Chris had no trouble ignoring it.

"It's all right. We're not going to hurt you. We're going to get you to the hospital."

The eyes shot open, staring at him with abrupt comprehension before moving past him to fix on JD struggling to escape Buck's grasp. The boy on the floor surged up, making Chris jerk back for a moment before he reached to restrain him.

As Chris took hold, the youth yelled, "JD, run! Go, JD, go!"

JD froze, startled, turning his head to stare at him. Buck also turned, momentarily distracted.

"Go, go, go! Now!"

Chris glimpsed an agonized look of indecision on JD's young face even as the sick youth yelled hoarsely, "The Kestrel! Go!"

Determination replaced indecision on the boy's face, and JD slammed the heel of his hand into Buck's groin with enough punch in it to make Buck loosen his grip long enough for the boy to twist free and run.

"Shit!" Buck straightened the best he could and hobbled after him.

The boy on the bed slumped back as soon as JD left. His eyes closed. With his face grey and sweaty, he looked like hell.

"Fuck!" Chris checked for a pulse, finding it weak and far too fast under his fingertips laid on the youth's neck. He appeared to be unconscious, his breathing shallow and gasping. "Dammit to hell."

He strode to the door of the office and yelled, "Buck!"

Buck was struggling to press and fold his lanky body through the tight opening in the wall. He looked back at Chris.

"We have to get this kid to the hospital right now."

"JD--"

"Later. Come on!"

Using a metal pipe they found in the rubbish strewn on the floor, they managed to pry a larger opening and manhandled the unconscious figure through it. Buck carried him to the truck and sat supporting him in the back of the crew cab.

"Brother Vin, I suppose."

"Mmm."

"Doesn't look much like JD." Buck sighed. "Damn, Chris. I hate thinking of that boy out there by himself."

"We'll find him. His brother told him to go somewhere specific. I don't think he'd've sent JD someplace unsafe. He looked too concerned for him."

A gasped moan sounded, and Buck's rich, soothing voice filled the truck with a counterfeit peacefulness.

The youth was sick enough to warrant immediate attention when they reached the nearest ER. Buck paced while Chris told the admitting nurse they didn't know anything about the kid. In a surprisingly short time, a resident came to talk to them.

"I'm Dr. Phillips. I understand you brought in the young man, but you don't know him?"

"That's right. Know his kid brother a bit, is all. How is he?" Chris felt an odd anxiety. Damn these kids and their way of getting under your skin.

"Very sick. He's got a burst appendix. If you hadn't brought him in when you did, he would have died. He must have been in pain for days before it actually burst. He seems to have an aversion to hospitals and doctors, but when we made it clear his choice was death or immediate surgery, he signed the consent form."

"Signed the consent? Is he old enough to do that?"

"We found a driver's license in his pocket. He's twenty-one."

The doctor nodded affably and moved away. Buck called after him, "Uh, just from curiosity, what's his name?"

The doctor turned back, said, "Evan Summers," and continued on his way.

After exchanging a puzzled look with Buck, Chris shrugged and headed for the door, more than ready to go home and get the afternoon chores out of the way. They were having dinner with Josiah this evening. Chris felt a lifting of his spirits at the thought of being in Josiah's relaxing presence.

Buck, of course, was incapable of letting it go that easily.

"Did that kid look twenty-one to you?"

Chris didn't bother answering, knowing his old friend would worry at the matter with or without encouragement.

"If that kid is twenty-one, I'll eat JD's silly looking hat."

Chris peeled a Cert and popped it into his mouth. A shower sounded appealing.

"JD Summers." Buck's voice was thoughtful as he tried out the name. "Those kids didn't look anything alike."

Dry clothes, too. Definitely a shower and dry clothes before they headed to Josiah's.

"So, this Vin's full name is Evan? Never heard that nickname before. Not that I've met any Evans before. Or Vins, for that matter."

He hoped Josiah didn't make chili. Josiah's chli was damn good, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to stomach any right at the moment. He couldn't seem to get the smell of it out of his nostrils no matter what.

"I tell you, old pard, there's something fishy about the whole thing."

"Uh-huh."

"I just wish I knew where JD was. I hate thinking of that poor kid out there somewhere alone."

###### Monday

Monday dawned clear and dry. A nip in the air from being early spring, but a beautiful day to be up and doing the chores in the barn. The horses moved happily into the paddock, their breath steaming in the air.

Buck worked through the chores mechanically, uncharacteristically quiet. Chris just let it go. He knew he'd hear all about it when Buck was ready to share. He thought of dinner last night instead. Nathan had been out with his girlfriend, Rain, so it was just the three of them. Josiah was looking less strained. Annie's death eleven months ago after two years of debilitating illness had hit Josiah hard. Hell, it had devastated Josiah as much to lose Annie, even though it had been long expected, as it had knocked Chris flat when he'd lost his wife and son three years ago.

He didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to think about the burned-out shell of a car that was all that was left after the firefighters had finally doused the flames. Six people had been seriously injured in the accident when a tanker truck jack-knifed on the Interstate, but only two had died. Only a young wife and her five-year-old son heading home from a weekend visiting her father.

It had always hurt somehow especially that he hadn't seen them for the two days before they died as well as the day they died. Three entire days, ones that could've been, lost to him.

But it was best if he didn't think about it right now.

Josiah and Annie and Buck had been all that had kept him sane and alive after the accident. And then Annie had gotten sick and the following two years were a hell of mingled grief for what he'd lost and pain at watching Annie suffer and feeling Josiah's and Buck's pain as well as his own. Two years of waiting for death to claim another member of their family. When he'd stood at the graveside on one side of Josiah, Buck on Josiah's other side, Chris had known he had to pull himself together for the sake of the family he had left. Apart from anything else, Josiah had needed help running the Retreat. It had been a relief when Nathan, Josiah's closest friend and a doctor who acted as the consultant for the Retreat, had agreed to stay on living at the house with Josiah. He'd moved in to be on hand so that Annie could live her last months at home rather than in an acute-care hospital. Now Nathan and Josiah ran the Four Corners Retreat together just as he and Buck shared responsibility for the Four Corners Ranch.

The Four Corners property Annie had inherited from her father wasn't all that large, but it was good land, and valuable because of its proximity to the city while still being rural. Originally a working ranch, that side of things had fallen into disuse during the Depression, when Annie's grandfather had been unable to keep the business solvent. The only thing that had kept the property in the family was the hot mineral spring on the western portion of the land. Building a crude but functional spa had netted the family sufficient income to keep the property and live on it even in those lean years. In the post-WWII years, the spa had swelled in popularity with a small but faithful clientele. As years passed, more people in the surrounding area had come to swear by the efficacy of the spring and word spread farther afield.

Josiah and Annie were the ones who'd transformed the spa into a retreat for people who wanted to rejuvenate their spirit while using the waters for their body's health. Their vision had made Four Corners into the successful, though uncommercialized, business it now was. They were able to expand the house built near the spa into the unpretentious but elegant structure it was today, enlivened on all sides by Annie's flower gardens. Gardening, she'd said, was good for the mind, the soul, and the body: nothing could beat it.

Josiah took care of the gardens now. Chris reckoned his adoptive father felt a closeness to Annie while working with the dirt and the plants she'd loved. He could understand that kind of communion even though there was nothing comparable in his own life that gave him a similar sense of connection with his dead wife.

Into that peaceful and benevolent home, Josiah and Annie Sanchez had taken Buck and him when they were kids. They'd been living on the street for six months, having run away from yet another foster home, when they'd been caught. Well, Buck had been caught and Chris couldn't leave him. Buck was JD's age at the time. He was a lot bigger than JD--Buck never really had a growth spurt; he just sort of continually grew until everyone wondered if he'd ever stop--but he was still just a kid. Chris, almost two years older, had thought he knew it all compared to Buck. At the least, he knew he had to look after the younger boy. That's why they'd run from the last place. The family weren't bad, but they'd decided they couldn't handle two teenagers and they were going to send Chris away. No way was anyone going to separate them.

Six months living on the streets. That was the longest spell of fending for themselves they'd had, though they'd been on the streets on and off a few times before. Not after that time, though, because they lucked out. For the first time in either of their lives--other than having met each other four years earlier--they actually lucked out. They met Josiah, who, as a clinical psychologist, did part-time work with Children and Family Services. He interviewed them in the group home they were sent to after being picked up.

He still couldn't imagine what Josiah had seen in them. Well, seen in him, anyway. Buck was always an engaging kid, a lot like JD in the area of charm. People usually took a shine to Buck. But not to Chris. He knew he'd been a sullen brat with a scowl permanently etched on his face. He shook his head when he thought of how Josiah had just smiled genially at him, never got irritated by any of his sass or cussing, and seemed able to look right past all his prickly defenses to see the pit of terror like a dark hole inside him. The fear that they'd separate him and Buck: that had been the worst. The determination that he wasn't going to let that happen, no matter what he had to do.

He'd expected the world to kick him in the balls, so he got in as many kicks beforehand as he could.

"Son," Josiah had said to him after the second interview, "you better watch you don't break that back of yours."

He hadn't wanted to admit he didn't know what the guy meant, so he'd just glared at him.

"From the weight of that chip you're carrying around on your shoulder," Josiah had explained, with a smile in his voice and understanding on his face, before leaving the room.

He hadn't been able to believe it when Josiah took him and Buck to the Retreat and introduced them to his wife. Annie had a plain face and a beautiful spirit. It shone out of her eyes and past her undistinguished features and lit her up in a way that was all her own. It was even more astonishing when, after a couple of visits, he learned she was ready to embrace them with all the joy and love in her. That she and Josiah wanted them to live in that safe, comfortable house on a permanent basis, and be part of their family. They wouldn't apply to foster them, though, unless Buck and Chris agreed because they didn't want to force them to be somewhere they didn't want to be.

There hadn't been any question about Buck. His friend had wanted a home and family of his own with the desperation of a lost puppy. Oh, hell, there hadn't been any question about Chris, either. He hadn't trusted it or Josiah and Annie as easily as Buck had, but he'd wanted it to be real, to be true, just as much. Josiah had told him solemnly it took courage to trust when you'd been beaten down a lot. 

Josiah's saying that to him was a challenge, though he hadn't realized how he'd been played until he was older.

He smiled as he peeled off his work gloves and stood in the doorway of the barn looking over the ranch. Josiah had taught him all the qualities of strength and courage that had helped him get through the past years, and now they were helping Josiah in return.

He and Buck had worked at the Retreat during their teens, but while Buck, at least, was good at handling clients, neither of them was much good at being spiritual. They'd been more interested in the eastern part of the property, where the original ranch house had sat dilapidated near a mostly solid barn and paddocks in various states of disrepair. He and Buck had worked on it, talking over with Josiah and Annie the dream of bringing the ranch back into working order, and getting their permission to try. Josiah and Annie had hoped to send one or both of them to college, but neither of them had that inclination. Instead, they'd been given the chance to bring the ranch to life.

The ranch house had been renovated to at least a habitable state when he'd married Sarah, his high school sweetheart. They'd moved in, while Buck had stayed living at the Retreat to give the newlyweds their privacy. The three of them--he and Sarah and Buck--had worked hard to build the ranch, slowly buying good stock and waiting out the lean years while their first foals grew to where they could be worked. They boarded horses and offered escorted trail rides to keep an income coming in before they could start earning money from selling young broke horses, the results of their own carefully planned breeding program. They'd continued to help Josiah with handyman jobs at the Retreat, too, but that was just what families did, not a job. They hadn't been entirely out of the red with the Ranch when Sarah and Adam had been killed, but they were pretty near.

The next three years, it was all held together by Buck and Josiah alone. Chris knew he hadn't been any use. He'd drunk too much and run wild and almost got himself killed more than once, not even caring--though the shocked pain in Annie's eyes the last time Josiah had brought him home in rough shape had been like a dousing of cold water. Then Annie's disease had worsened, and he'd stopped thinking about himself exclusively. The Ranch was almost back to where it had been when he'd lost Sarah. He and Buck were doing all right. And now Josiah was finding some measure of peace again.

"Chris!"

He jerked and looked into Buck's exasperated face. Buck waggled fingers in front of his eyes, which Chris batted away crossly.

"Hello, anyone in there?"

"What?" he snarled.

Buck's grin faded, his look becoming serious. "Chores are done. I'm going into town."

It didn't take a genius to work that out. He sighed. "JD."

Buck spoke with the determination of one who expected to be stopped, and wasn't going to put up with it. "I'm gonna see if the kid in the hospital will tell me where JD might be."

Chris looked at Buck's set face and smiled at the comforting familiarity of it. You could always depend on old Buck. Gotta love him.

"Good luck."

Buck blinked, then a big grin wreathed his face. He nodded and strode off, long legs churning up the ground. In a few minutes, Chris heard the roar of the truck engine, and turned with a grimace to head inside and tackle the monthly accounts.

An hour later, he was glad of the interruption when the phone rang. He picked it up from the desk and flexed his shoulder muscles as he answered.

"He's gone."

"Uh, okay. Who, uh--?"

"JD's brother. Evan. Vin. Whatever. He's gone."

His mind on track at last, Chris frowned. "They released him already? He just had emergency surgery yesterday."

"He skipped out. They moved him from recovery to a room, where he was sleeping it off. But sometime or other during the night, he somehow got himself up, took out the IVs, found clothes, and left, all without anyone noticing. They ain't too pleased about it, either, since some glitch turned up in the insurance he supposedly had."

"I'm surprised he could even walk."

"So are the doctors. They don't think he'll be able to hold out for long. They're worried about infection if he doesn't get proper care. What a damned assed thing to do! And, jeez, you'd think they'd keep an eye on patients, not just let them wander off." 

"It's a hospital, Buck, not a prison. People are supposed to want to be helped."

"Yeah, well, I'm betting he's gone to JD. I'm going to the Center and do some more asking around, see if anyone knows anything about this Kestrel."

"Yeah, all right." Chris rubbed his forehead, looking at the papers scattered across the desk. Oh, to hell with it. "I'll head back to the warehouse, see if there's anything in the stuff they left behind."

"Thanks, buddy." The warmth in Buck's voice made Chris smile.

"Just take it easy, all right? We'll find him."

Chris grabbed his jacket and keys and headed outside to wheel the Knucklehead out of the barn. Josiah called the old Harley the "once and future motorcycle" for the interminable way Chris and Buck had been tinkering with the thing since they'd fallen in love with it at a farm auction when they were teenagers and Josiah had bought it for them. Still, it worked. After three failed jump-starts, Chris gritted his teeth and put focused energy into the next attempt, relieved when the engine fired. Sure it worked. Nothing wrong with it. Just needed a little spit and polish.

...though, all right, it really might be good to do something about that tendency to stall at the first couple of stop signs before the engine warmed.

He reached the warehouse district in less than an hour despite somewhat more traffic on this work day than on the day before. He parked the bike on a street a block away and made his way over the empty scrub ground. The condemned building looked as deserted as it had on Sunday. The steel panel still gaped widely at the back the way he and Buck had left it, and he went inside cautiously. No telling if the larger entranceway might have attracted some kind of intruder. It was impossible to dampen the sound of his boots on the cement floor. He walked steadily and cautiously towards the office, attuned to catch any sound or movement. The place, however, felt vast and empty.

So it was with some surprise that he paused in the office doorway at seeing a figure standing on the other side of the small space. He peered through the dimness at another teenager, older than JD, this one with brown hair falling in ripples to his shoulders and sharp, watchful eyes. The boy's stance was relaxed, but alert. His face had none of the cherubic innocence that softened JD's features, and he looked well able to look after himself.

Chris looked into the narrowed, watchful eyes and felt something click into place. He didn't know how he knew, but....

"You must be Vin. JD mentioned you."

The eyes narrowed further, which was the only indication the kid gave that he'd heard. Chris took a step inside, noting the youth neither moved nor tensed. The boy had readied himself for whatever came at him before Chris reached the office, and he clearly saw no need to alter his stance. Chris, although he had a couple of inches and more than a few pounds on the slender youth, wouldn't put a lot on his own chances if it came to a fight. He'd warrant the kid's street-fighting tactics were more up to date than his own.

"Name's Chris. Not here to do you any harm. Just looking for JD. We're a mite worried about him."

Still just silence and a narrowed gaze set hard on him. He sighed.

"You're his brother, right? He mentioned his brother Vin. He was expecting you back a few days ago. Seemed pretty worried when you didn't show."

"How the hell d'you know JD?"

The voice was a low, rough growl. Funny, the kid sounded a lot like Chris knew he did himself when he was pissed off, except Chris didn't have a Texas accent.

Which JD sure didn't, either.

"My brother Buck and I volunteer sometimes at the Sally Ann Center. We did a stint there last week. JD came in for lunch every day. He's a real nice kid. Buck and him hit it off together. They seem to share the same goofy sense of humor."

At last, a little of the tension seemed to ease from the still figure. Chris took another step forward. A slight movement and a sharp click drew his eyes to the teenager's right hand, still hanging by his side but now holding a wicked looking blade.

He lifted his eyes back to the kid's and knew without a doubt the boy was not only capable of using it, but ready to do so. He stopped where he was and tried to make himself seem non-threatening. It was hard. He really needed to work on his people skills. Thank you for the advice, Josiah.

"Look, like I said, we're worried about JD. About Evan, too. He another brother of yours? We took him to the hospital last night, but--"

"You took him to the hospital?"

Chris blinked, taken aback by the fury in the kid's voice. What the effing hell? The tension was suddenly sky-high again and he noticed Vin's grip on the knife was now white-knuckled.

"You had no fucking right to do that."

Chris's own temper rose. "And you don't have a fucking leg to stand on, kid, when it comes to saying what we should or shouldn't have done. He was goddamned _sick_. Get that? Bad sick. They had to do emergency _surgery_. And he had no one but a scared thirteen-year-old trying to take care of him, which means JD himself had nobody at all looking out for him. Where the hell were you if you care about those two so bitching much?"

Vin lifted his free hand and swiped it down his face. When he dropped his hand, his too-old, too-young face was pale, exhausted looking, the black under each eye standing out like dabs of warpaint.

Vin's voice was as slumped and tired as his body. "You don't get it. Evan can't stand hospitals. He won't stay. I didn't want to leave 'em, but the only job I could get was out of town, and I needed it to get money for a doctor or to take him to a clinic. But the hospital, that's just a real bad idea. He'll take off soon's he can even if he can't barely walk."

Chris sighed. "Yeah, well, we get that now. He's already gone." He fixed a hard look on the kid. "But he ain't gonna survive without treatment, Vin. You get that? He needs treatment _now_. He told JD to go to someplace called the Kestrel. That mean anything to--"

He stopped as Vin's head snapped up and he looked suddenly energized. His eyes flicked past Chris to the doorway, then back to Chris. Chris put up his hands.

"I can give you a ride if you tell me where to go. It'll be quicker."

Vin hesitated, but at least the knife had disappeared back up his sleeve or wherever the hell he kept it. He rested steely eyes on Chris, then seemed to make up his mind, giving a jerked nod.

"Long as you don't try to take him back to no hospital."

Chris conceded with a shrug. "Doesn't seem any point in trying that again. We know a doc who'll probably take a look at him if we ask."

That got Vin moving. He grabbed a battered pack from the floor, slipping the straps over his shoulder, then following Chris across the warehouse floor. Chris's back prickled, thinking of that knife and the kid's catlike quickness and cool gaze, but mostly he felt they'd reached an odd understanding.

Or at least he'd managed to get Vin's willingness to cooperate as long as it got him to his brothers sooner rather than later. Reckon that was enough to go on with for now.


End file.
